Freedom
by amyshannigan
Summary: Ford/Arthur.


The rest of the universe was better at making mattresses than the Earth was, Arthur had decided. He'd gone through theship twice over, trying to decide which quarters he wanted as his based on which bed was most comfortable. After they'd all been tested and napped in at least once, he'd come to the conclusion that they were all identical and chose one of the ones with its own bathroom. Every bed was wonderful, catered to his every need and point like he was sleeping on the most pleased, comfortable kittens that cats had ever made.

He liked his new living quarters, despite everything. They were startlingly white and had a small set of white cupboards in a kitchenette, and a small bathroom made of something that looked like porcelain but wasn't. It smelled like nothing at all and wasn't dusty despite its lack of use, which was a pressing reminder that it wasn't as quaint as he thought. He kept liking it because he wanted to find something he liked, and his room was, at least, his own.

It was there that he was sitting when Marvin came in. He hadn't seen him for a couple hours, not since Trillian had him bring snacks, and this time he wasn't carrying much of anything. Certainly no food, and no memos or messages - Just something black and thin, roughly the shape of a closed folding fan. 'Hello,' Arthur said, lying what he was reading down across his knees; it was an instruction manual for something that looked like a microwave in his kitchenette. 'What would you like?' he asked him.

Marvin turned to look at him, and looked, as usual, as unhappy as metal could. 'Oh, nothing,' he said, tinny voice somehow different. Just as morose, but lilting like something was funny and nothing was ever funny to Marvin. Arthur checked to see if he had something on his face. 'I just wanted to ... check on you.' He walked a little farther into the room, casually inspecting it in a way that, if he didn't know better, would have made Arthur think that he didn't know he was a robot. 'Can I ... get you anything?' He sounded like he wanted to grimace.

Arthur wasn't stupid enough to think there was nothing going on. He sat up and was going to say nothing profound when Ford burst in (as much as one could burst, because the doors weren't built for bursting, but patient waiting while they opened. It wasn't a long wait, but they were hard to burst through nonetheless). His brow was creased and drawn down, mouth a hard frown. He didn't even glance at Arthur, but stared down at Marvin with grim determination. His feet were set apart, hands out at his sides like a western star ready to draw.

'I hope you live forever, you miserable scrap of bolts,' he said, angry and serious, and because that was the worst thing Marvin had ever heard he lifted his arm and shot him twice in the stomach - What he had in his hand folded out to be a Kill-O-Zap gun. Ford's back hit the wall as Marvin ran out of the room, the door closing cheerfully behind him. Arthur didn't know what to make of this – He wasn't startled by the gunshot because it actually wasn't all that loud, not like in science fiction movies he'd seen where they made a loud 'bbbtzzpt!' noise. It was more like the demure 'pop!' a faulty outlet made when you tried to plug something into it. So he didn't throw himself off the bed when Ford was shot, but he did when he hit the wall because that made the louder noise.

Arthur leapt over to where Ford was slumped, looking anxious and pale but breathing. It wasn't a long leap. He crouched awkwardly next to him, eyes flicking from where bloodstained hands were clasped over a stomach rising and falling quickly with breathing that was, presumably, terrified, and a face whiter than anything. Arthur rose his hands like he wanted to do something with them, but when he couldn't decide what that something was he dropped them to his knees. 'You shouldn't have said that,' he said simply, pinching his own thumb because he thought it might distract him from worrying.

Ford half-turned away from him, more of a churn than a roll. His face was all scrunched up, shining under impersonal lights. Arthur didn't like blood, not one bit, but here it was slowly crawling across the floor towards him. It didn't have far to go and moving back would have been rude, sort of a 'I'm dying and you're worried about stains?' deal. So Ford's blood touched his knees, and he shuddered because it was warm. He knew it wouldn't be for long.

Arthur didn't know what to say. Neither did Ford, because he just kept making painful noises and squirming, just a little. His knees drew up, his eyes swivelled up to Arthur's.

Because of that, Arthur felt obligated to say or do something, so he put his hand on his shoulder and said, 'It'll be okay.' He didn't say, "You're going to be fine," because it didn't look like he would be, and Arthur had always been above affectionate lying. Ford didn't look like he believed him, and sort of rolled his eyes in a way that Arthur sincerely hoped was intentional. His hands were grabbing his stomach while blood seeped its way through. Arthur had never thought about what colour Ford's blood would be, but it turned out to be just a hair darker a red than humans'. He was looking worse and worse, so Arthur said, 'Is there anything I can do?' He know he would regret saying that, but did anyways. Ford would say something stupid, like 'die instead'.

He did say something stupid which was, in a thin voice, 'Kiss me.'

The first thing Arthur did was look over his shoulder. He looked around his tiny quarters – there wasn't anyone in the kitchen or on the bed, or at the table or by the bathroom door. There was no one else in the room. He looked back at Ford, figuring he'd somehow misunderstood. 'What?'

Ford closed his eyes and Arthur was both panicked and relieved until he opened them again, at which point he became relieved and panicked. Ford tossed around in a way that was still calm. 'You heard me,' he growled almost grudgingly. 'I've,' he coughed. 'kissed my share of, uh -' He paused and closed his eyes again, opening them a few seconds later. '- disrespectful things. People. I wouldn't -' He closed his eyes more intentionally this time, and Arthur correctly assumed that it was because he didn't know where to look. '- mind if my last one was with someone that was ... not ... entirely ...'

He searched for words and Arthur, in a rush, unhelpfully supplied the wrong one. _'Female?'_

Ford frowned, looking insulted even in his dangerously fatal state – well, he frowned more then he already was. _'Useless_, I was going to say. I'm changing my mind.'

'That's a good choice,' Arthur said quickly. He couldn't leave someone to die, but most of him wanted to. He was delirious, anyways, and if he was saying things like he was he probably would forget about Arthur if he left. Completely delirious. 'That's an excellent choice, if I were you I'd – Well, I'd have been nicer to Marvin, probably, but I -'

'I changed it back,' Ford said suddenly, lifting one of his hands off his stomach enough to make a squelching sound that made Arthur's own stomach churn with nausea. Ford winced and clutched at his wounds again. 'I don't care what you think, hurry up.'

The 'hurry up' gave Arthur a start. He didn't want anyone to hurry up, he wanted to go back to five minutes ago and stop Ford from being a reasonless asshole like he had been, and like he was basically being again in a different way. 'But why?' he said desperately, trying to change his mind because he knew that it was a worldwide fact that it was very, very rude to deny dying wishes. He was, of course, not on Earth or anywhere near it (and that was the world he was talking about), but he couldn't imagine that Earth was the only planet in the universe that had decency.

'I told you,' Ford said sternly, his breathing shallow. Arthur was terrified when he tipped his head up a bit, sweat-sheened and at least a little desperate. Who wouldn't be when they were dying? Arthur didn't have anything else to say to him, and, in all honesty, didn't think he'd be this upset when Ford inevitably died – with the lifestyle he lived, Arthur knew it was bound to happen in his own lifetime. He leaned down and touched his mouth to Ford's, missing by a bit, catching his top and upper lip.

His stupid adrenaline spiked without his say so, for no good reason other than a mouth was on his mouth, because his adrenaline didn't know who was who. He kept his mouth there for a few seconds out of courtesy (Ford was the kind of person that would make him re-do it if the first one wasn't good enough, just for the sake of it), and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see if Ford had his opened or closed.

When he went to move back, Ford made a very quick, pained noise and Arthur thought he'd hurt him. He managed a, 'Sorry! Did -' before Ford pushed himself up high enough to keep kissing him. This was surprising and made Arthur so uncomfortable that he accidentally put his hand in blood. The whole thing lasted three or four long seconds at the most, and when Ford finally seemed alright with it Arthur leaned back for good, sitting on his haunches, rubbing his mouth with the back of the hand that didn't get put in blood. That one he wiped on clean parts of the floor.

If he were a few years younger, Arthur decided, he would have gone pink. As it was, he was an adult, so he just frowned and put a hand on his friend's shoulder while he died. Useless, rude, and unreliable, but a friend. Ford looked at him and looked uncomfortable while he did it, so he looked away again and closed his eyes for, presumably, the last time – without a word.

Arthur sniffed but didn't cry. Unsure of what to do or what they did with dead bodies in space, he sat there for a while as his legs went numb from lack of use. The room was as silent as silent gets, somehow even without the sound of any machinery. He'd imagined space ships to be loud.

All the silence made Ford hopping up and jogging out of the room an even bigger shock.

Arthur didn't even know what to do at first. He said his name loudly, not quite a yell, and then took off after him. He caught a glimpse of him going round the corner, long legs flailing in what better not have been glee.

Arthur was five seconds behind him when he hit the bridge, and just caught the end of a cheery exclamation that said, 'Arthur's gay!'

Zaphod and Trillian spun their seats half-around. 'He's what?' Zaphod said, not seeing or caring if the man in question was in the room, which he mostly was. At the same time, Trillian said, "How do you know?" but Ford didn't hear her because Zaphod was louder and even if he did hear her, he would have ignored her because he didn't want to answer that.

'He's gay, he likes his own gender,' Ford explained, even though both Zaphod and Trillian knew what he'd meant the first time. He did it mostly to make Arthur more uncomfortable.

Both of them raised eyebrows on their respective heads. 'How do you know?' Trillian asked again. Ford tossed her a noncommittal, "He told me," and turned to Zaphod because he was bound to be more interesting about this.

Arthur barged into the room frowning, but only Trillian took notice of him. He had half a mind to punch Ford in the back of the head, but was momentarily disconcerted by how he still looked as pale and blood-covered as he had in his room. On top of that, his shirt was torn as if he'd been shot twice, which it looked like he had. 'I am not!' he hollered, making Ford jump in surprise.

'Well, what do we do about it?' Zaphod said, his tone seeming much more like someone bent over a strategic war table than a helpless parent saying, "Oh, what can we do?" 'What would they do on Earth? We should probably try and make him feel at home.'

Ford knew what to say. 'We shouldn't ask him direct questions about it, but obviously know that he is, and secretly ostracize him and when we mention anyone else that's gay we've got to look over at him and go, "Oh, sorry".'

'That sounds good, let's do that,' Zaphod said with zeal, snapping his fingers. 'Despite everything, that Earth really had making situations awkward down to an art.' If anyone on Earth besides Arthur had heard that, they might have been pleased because Zaphod Beeblebrox had seen some horribly awkward things.

'I'm _not_,' Arthur said, ignoring their discussion to look at Trillian, who was simply looking back at him with her eyebrows raised, posture ladylike if not a bit affronted.

'Why are you wearing all that stuff?' Trillian said, directed at Ford. He looked at her, irritated at being pulled away from his promising brainstorming session with Zaphod.

Arthur didn't understand, so he said, 'What stuff?'

'The fake blood, that stuff,' she said matter-of-factly, waving a finger at his shirt. 'That costs too much to play around with,' she chastised him.

'Fake?' Arthur snarled, embarrassed for not knowing. Even now, it looked perfectly real and nothing like the bright red stuff in the movies or on Hallowe'en costumes. The shots had torn his shirt, and he was still a death-bed pale. Maybe Trillian was wrong, he thought, clinging to shreds of his dignity. Ford had said he was an actor, but since he figured out that he was also an alien, he assumed that the acting bit had been a lie.

'Fake,' Ford confirmed with a smile, only catching Arthur in his peripheries. 'You haven't seen our movies yet, check this out,' he said almost excitedly and rummaged around in his sleeve. A little click was heard, and slowly but surely the colour went back into his skin. There wasn't much colour, mind you, because he was pale as it was, but it was noticeable enough to make Arthur feel very, very foolish. Ford rolled his sleeve up to show a little gray electronic thing stuck on his forearm, about the shape of a box-cutter, with a gray cord going out of it and into him. He yanked it out with a wince, and a tiny bubble of blood formed but he wiped it away. 'Earth was always a little behind on special effects.'

Arthur ground his teeth and said nothing because he was humiliated and didn't want to up that by saying something stupid.

'Wait,' Zaphod said, looking over Ford's shoulder to where Arthur was seething patiently. 'Can we do that now that he's heard us? I mean, I'm not up with it or anything, but I think you said it was supposed to be secret.' He rested a contemplative chin in a hand.

'Oh, yeah.' Ford turned to face Arthur fully, and Arthur squinted at him and remembered what he'd done when he tried to stop kissing him - he'd stretched up to keep it going. 'Yeah, I guess not.'

'No, okay, that's fine. Can't we just lock him up or something, and say it's for some other reason?'

'They used to do that!' Ford helpfully supplied. 'That'll work.' He looked Arthur over once. 'But let's make Marvin do it, he's got blood on him.'

'It's _fake_,' said Arthur, testily, still looking at Ford to find a hint of anything off.

Marvin plodded into the room on legs that, he had probably mentioned, were tired of walking. 'Marvin, we need you to lock Arthur in his room. He, uh, picked one of the quarters with the bathroom, and we all know that's illegal.'

'Why not a cell?' Zaphod chirped.

Ford, with the air of an expert, said, 'It'll be more embarrassing if he's locked in his quarters, and if we call it his "room", because it's more like a parent grounding their son. And it's easier to stop by and make him uncomfortable if he isn't all the way down there.'

Zaphod tapped his chin. 'Aren't you devious,' he mused, pleased with how this was going. Nothing like scandals to make the time go by. 'Can we also pretend to assume that he wants to have sex with any and all men around?'

'That's completely necessary,' Ford said gravely. 'to make him as uncomfortable as possible. If he so much as shakes your hand, be sure to insinuate that it's because he's in love with you.'

'Excellent. Marvin, escort him to his room,' Zaphod said with a princely twist of his wrist, and Marvin sighed. When he was done that, he looked up at Ford and gave him the most levelling look a robot could give.

'Yes, _sir_,' he said, dripping with sarcasm, and laughed a short laugh that made everyone in the room want to leave it or make him leave. Fortunately, he did leave when he dragged Arthur out by his dressing gown.

Since Marvin was involved in the matter, on account of that gun clearly not being a gun at all, Arthur took the opportunity to ask him about it before he was _grounded_. 'What just happened?' was the only way he could sum it up neatly, because after that the sub-questions got needlessly complicated.

'Not that he would go through with it, but I've been told I'll get my hands replaced with raw meat if I tell you anything,' Marvin drawled, clearly talking about Ford because Arthur had heard him say that one time before; he couldn't remember when. 'But I wouldn't anyways, because I enjoy keeping things from you. Well, I would if I knew what you were feeling. But with a brain like this, there's nothing that's kept from me, so I don't know what you feel so I don't know how I should feel.' He sort of chuckled. 'I wish I enjoyed it.'

'That's enough.' It was Arthur's turn to sigh. 'You would walk a little faster.'

'You could be a little smarter,' Marvin said, and pushed him into his quarters, where a big pile of fake blood was pooled on the ground near the foot of his bed. The door shut and Arthur was alone again. He headed for the kitchen to wash his hands and see if he could find a cloth to clean up with.

. . .

He was, once again, sitting on the bed of his spic and span room. The floor was clean, and he managed to get the melted-plastic smell of the blood out from under his fingernails. All was as it was, except that he kept looking up to the door every minute or so to make sure he didn't have any unexpected visitors. Since the events of this morning and the little shows Ford and Zaphod had been putting on every half hour, his door had greeted more people than it was used to and was getting very excited over all the attention.

Trillian had come in once, meaning to be understanding. She'd perched on his kitchen table and talked about someone she used to know, and how he was in a similar situation and if Arthur wouldn't mind telling her how everything with Ford started, maybe she could help. Arthur refused everything in the most polite manner he could because, though he did like Trillian, it was too strange a thing to explain to someone that wasn't there – and someone who could instantly tell the difference between real and special-effects blood. So after a couple visits Trillian gave up, and an even fewer number of visits with Ford got an even fewer number of facts.

Time passed as well as it could. Zaphod and Ford had been having a great time since they remembered the ship's intercom system, and were frequently brodcasting lewd things into his quarters; everything from fake news broadcasts to terrible jokes. Any time they had something to say, it blasted in. They got tired of that in a fair amount of time, and Arthur was at peace for at least a little while longer.

It wasn't until several hours later that anyone got anywhere. Arthur was terribly bored with being in his room, and had already washed everything and organized everything and read everything he could. He was lying in bed, over the sheets and quilts, when Ford came in. This time Arthur sat bolt upright from get-go, not taking any more chances.

Ford didn't have any particular look on his face. He had his hands in his pockets and leaned in the door frame for a bit, thanking the door for letting him do so. The door was pleased to hear that, and held itself up while Ford lounged. After a handful of seconds, Arthur glared at him and said, 'It didn't make any sense.'

'Say what?' said Ford passively, rubbing his index fingers over a couple of his teeth like he was cleaning them.

'Your stupid little _thing_, it was completely stupid and complicated. I don't understand,' Arthur huffily informed him. 'why you couldn't think of a better way to humiliate me.'

'You don't understand much, actually,' Ford pointed out. 'It was how I wanted to do it, so I did.'

'You could have gotten me drunk,' Arthur said, only feeling a bit dumb about that. It was legitimate because it was much simpler for Ford, but the way he'd said it made it sound too in favour of it.

'I could have,' he admitted. 'But then I couldn't've made sure that you'd say you were gay. If you were drunk you'd just be honest – I could only do that if I was sure of what you'd say.'

Arthur felt funny lying down while Ford was standing so he swung his feet over the side and sat on it. 'You couldn't have been sure that I'd – That the scheme you used would work, either.'

He took his hands out of his pockets and Arthur was relieved to see that he wasn't holding anything. 'That's right. But if it did work, it would have more solid evidence than anything else.'

Arthur didn't particularly like being treated like an experiment, and especially not by someone like Ford, whom he hardly liked at all. If it were someone very important and someone who he respected, he could stand being an experiment and a joke for a while - but not when it was Ford pushing him around like he was. He stood up. 'You know, you're awfully lucky I'm not like you,' he sneered.

'And why is that?' Ford moved forward a bit as well, letting the door drop closed behind him.

Arthur tried to make himself seem bigger, but couldn't, really. Ford was about three inches taller than him, give or take a couple. They couldn't have been far apart in weight. 'I didn't tell them how your plan worked, what you had to do,' Arthur said slowly, pleased at how Ford's face dropped a nearly discernible amount. Arthur had to gather his courage to be able to say the next part, but made it clear that he was going to keep talking so Ford wouldn't interrupt him before he was ready to say it. 'or how _you_ were the one that wanted it to keep going.'

Ford shrunk into himself with a stern, unamused smile. He was, Arthur noted with pleasure, uncomfortable. 'You don't know that.' He paused and added. 'You kissed back.'

'Because I thought you were going to keel over if I stopped.'

'That was the point.'

'I don't think it was.' Arthur, surprised at how well he was managing with this – he'd normally trip up and lose control by now. Ford kept looking more and more unsure. 'I think you liked it more than you thought you would.' Arthur was only realizing these things now that they were coming out of his mouth, and no sooner.

Ford's brow furrowed again and he looked much like he did when he was looking at Marvin, before he got "shot". This time he was looking at Arthur, cold and hard, from a few yards away. 'This,' he said levelly. 'is the first time you've been off your planet, the very first. Isn't that right?'

'Yes, but -'

'Your world was confined to one planet, which, compared to the size of yourself, was huge, nearly unimaginable. I bet you hadn't been over most of it. Right?'

'Well, yes -'

'And even on Earth, you felt like a little fish in a big pond.'

Arthur didn't say anything to this because he was starting to get uncomfortable, and Ford knew his answer anyways.

He continued. 'Try to imagine what that's like when you aren't confined to a planet, but a whole entire universe. Imaginable numbers of universes.'

Arthur did, and shuddered discreetly. Ford continued. 'It's like being an atom on Earth - Less than that.' He looked disgruntled for a moment, ran an agitated hand through his hair, and stepped forwards a bit. Arthur stepped back in time. 'Look, think about it – On Earth, you could be a worldwide sensation, right, anything from being a rock star or being in a real grisly murder. But you _could_ have almost everyone on Earth know your name. Right?'

'I suppose.' Arthur knew what was coming. If there was much smaller than a subatomic particle, he would have felt like it.

'You can be as famous as you want out here,' Ford said quietly. 'And no one will care. There's too much room.' He paused and frowned, fiddled with his now-clean shirt and hands in a forceful way. 'So sometimes, you find yourself wanting to do things. Just because - to see if anyone'll care. Even if you know they won't, because you have to at least try.'

For once, Arthur understood. He nodded slowly, solemnly, and agreed. Ford looked at him. 'But the bottom line,' he said. 'is still that you can do whatever you want and no one will care. And if they do, you have an entire universe to get away from them in.' He snorted. 'Look at Zaphod, for crying out loud.'

Arthur smiled a bit, but stopped when Ford walked forwards. Again, he understood, and went very tense. Ford touched his arm, and with what he said next, Arthur could hardly believe that it was the same voice as the one that had come through his intercom with "Hey Arthur, what does a gay horse eat?". 'In any case, I guess it's a sense of freedom.'

Arthur liked freedom, though he couldn't remember what it felt like because he'd always associated it with fresh morning air, and there was no morning or freshness in the vacuum of space. Ford probably had his own sense of it, and far be it from Arthur to call it wrong. Because of this, when Ford nudged him up against the wall and started kissing him, Arthur just kissed right on back because he knew no one would care. Probably not even Ford.

. . .

A half hour later they were lying in bed on their backs, staring up at the ceiling above that was slightly lower than the ceiling in the rest of the quarters because the bed was set into a kind of nook. Their breathing hadn't quite dropped down to where it should be, and Arthur still had marks on his neck and shoulder and Ford had scratches down his back that would sting for a while, so they couldn't forget what they'd done just yet.

It wasn't that they wanted to, really – Not yet, anyways. Both, without knowing the other was doing it, were trying to decide if they'd liked it or not. Arthur didn't think he would going into it, then wasn't sure if he did while it was going on, and still wasn't sure. Ford thought he would going into it, but wasn't sure if he did while it was going on, and then stayed unsure in the end.

Arthur thought back to what exactly went on to try and decide, but much of it was too inappropriate to bring back. His forehead and cheeks were a shade of pink because he had his forearm across his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at Ford while they were doing what they were doing, which he would have had to do otherwise. It hadn't been altogether very romantic, but certainly more romantic than Arthur had been expecting, because he was expecting to get beaten up. His end verdict was a very embarrassing yes, he had enjoyed that.

Ford's thought path went much the same way. He came to his conclusion much more quickly, of course he had enjoyed it, because it was sex and sex was usually a pretty good thing. Only a few times in his personal history had it ever been a bad thing, and he wasn't prepared to have those times count. He'd been with men a couple times, but this was only an assumption because during those times he had been extremely drunk, and didn't have much by way of evidence besides waking up with them. So Arthur, stupid as he was, was the first male he'd consciously done. And it wasn't bad, but he didn't expect it would be.

Their shoulders were touching, and neither knew what to think of that. They felt that moving farther away would be petty, considering that parts a much bigger deal than their shoulders had just touched for twenty minutes or more. So they let their shoulders touch and felt vaguely uncomfortable doing it, but in reality didn't have much choice because the bed was hardly bigger than a twin, and they didn't have anywhere to go on it without getting up.

Arthur decided that the safest thing to do was go to sleep, because he knew Ford would be gone when he woke up. So he rolled on his side and tried to do that, and Ford got up to make himself a sandwich. He had, at first, asked Arthur to make him one but when the only response he got was a swift heel-to-shin kick, he got up to do it himself because he was starving.

He didn't bother putting any clothes on, again finding it petty and odd. Arthur decided to be just a tiny bit bold and roll over onto his side the other way, facing into the room. He watched Ford cross the room, though there wasn't far for him to go. Arthur had a sudden longing for tungsten bulbs because every light fixture he'd seen since leaving Earth was something close to fluorescent, which meant it didn't cast any shadows and made everything look very impersonal and white.

This included Ford, standing in front of the open fridge with his back to Arthur. Arthur watched him curiously, marveling silently the slightly odd way Ford was put together. Wide shoulders tapering into a slim waist, which then tapered into even slimmer hips, leaving way for a ridiculously absent backside. Long, gangly legs stretched forever down to the linoleum, ending in long, bony feet that somehow managed to keep the rest of him upright against all logic. He was pale to begin with - though the lighting made him look positively white – and had a surprisingly little amount of body hair. He wasn't bad looking, simply awkward. Arthur thought he should have thought he was worse looking because no one else had called Ford Prefect attractive before. At least, not to Arthur's knowledge. He figured that if it were a widely known fact, he would have heard it by now.

Ford found enough things in Arthur's fridge to make something of a sandwich, then sat and ate it; it didn't take long because it was meagre at best. He glanced at Arthur for a moment, caught him watching, and gave him an awkward sort of smile. Arthur flopped onto his stomach because he wasn't sure of what else to do, burying his face in the sole pillow on the bed. Ford finished his feast and gargled with tap water, then sat back down on the edge of the bed.

He half-turned around on it, facing Arthur while still sitting. He was mostly buried in the pillow, the sheets now pulled modestly to his waist. Ford felt a little bad about the marks on his throat and shoulder, but didn't feel bad while he was giving them – not one bit. He wanted to do something but couldn't figure out what, so he sat there and they looked up and down at each other for a long while. Each remembered what the other had looked like ten minutes previous, and almost didn't believe it. Almost in unison, they thought about how Zaphod had come over the intercom once and they had to go completely silent very quickly because the intercoms were two-way. Not knowing Ford was in there at all, he just made a few badly executed jokes and turned it off.

They fought not to smile and scowled instead, just because they could. Ford lied back down on his side and looked at Arthur, who was starting to drop off to sleep. Ford did the same, for no reason other than because he could.


End file.
